Grrr or How I Broke Up with Rinoa
by Kaerith
Summary: Breaking up with Rinoa is going to be more difficult than Squall thought.... Warnings: language, slight slash.


Title: "Grrr" or "How I Broke Up With Rinoa"  
Author: Kaerith (kaerith@hotmail.com)  
Webjournal: http://kaerith.blogspot.com  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
Hey ya'll. Just felt like writing a short & funny li'l fic. Rinoa-bashing, cuss words, and mean-spirited fun. Heh heh.  
BTW, I don't own the characters (yada yada yada... you know the drill) & I am not biased against gay/bi people. More power to 'em. So don't go sending me any letter bombs, 'kay?  
Hope you enjoy!  
  
============  
  
I ground my teeth.  
  
"Please, Squally? Pretty please?" Rinoa begged, batting her eyelashes at me.  
  
"No, Rinoa. No way." I wasn't going to give in this time.  
  
"Why not?" She pouted, sticking out her trembling bottom lip while her eyes filled with tears. "I thought you loved me."  
  
I felt disgusted. Rinoa with her stupid, childish tactics. The most annoying aspect of her guilt-tripping wiles was that they worked better than most of my own battle strategies. "... Alright," I conceded. Why the hell do I always give her what she wants?  
  
"Goody!" She hopped and clasped her hands to her breasts. This displayed them quite nicely, and Rinoa knew it. She then threw herself at me, pressing against my chest. I fought down a feeling of revulsion. Sure, I used to admire her tits every chance I got. But now, after months of her doing everything up to and including shoving my nose down her cleavage, they had quickly lost their appeal.  
  
"Great! I'll just get my stuff and you can help me move into your room!" With a smack on my lips, Rinoa turned and bounced down the hall.  
  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I repeated quietly, knocking my head against my wall none too gently.  
  
============  
  
Psycho bitch. I wish someone would send her to a psych ward. Or, at least, a dog kennel. Better yet, send ME somewhere. Somewhere away from her. Right now I could hear her singing in the shower. Her stupid little "Eyes On Me," song she claimed was created just for our relationship. Does every woman have a special song, or is it just a Rinoa thing?  
  
I rolled onto my right side, facing the wall, and covered my head with a pillow. I couldn't hear her now. Except for the high notes she shrieked rather than sang. Eventually her caterwauling ceased. Cringing at the thought of a wet Rinoa climbing back into my bed, I rolled over. "Angelo," I hissed at the dog sprawled on the bedroom floor. He raised his head and looked at me. "C'mon, boy." I beckoned him, and he jumped onto the bed. I flopped back over onto my stomach and scratched his head with one hand. Angelo's a very smart dog. They say that there is a fine line between genius and insanity; I wonder whether all these years of full-time Rinoa has pushed the shepherd dog over the edge. If Angelo IS crazy I'll probably be joining him in a couple weeks.  
  
Angelo settled on the bed in the nick of time. Sure enough, Rinoa rounded the corner barely covered by a towel. Seeing the bed occupied she cocked a hip and scuffed a foot. "Oh, Squally, you let Angelo take my spot again?" she said mournfully, while peering up flirtatiously through her lashes.  
  
"Look at him. How can you even think of waking him up? He looks so peaceful." My shaggy bunkmate was practically playing dead instead of feigning sleep. We've pulled this trick a few times since The Bitch moved in. Me and Angelo are partners in the grand game of Avoiding Rinoa. Actually ACHIEVING space away from her is a qualification for sainthood. I think her Sorceress gift is getting people to do what she wants. Rinoa wouldn't be such a great manipulator if she didn't have some sort of secret weapon on her side.  
  
Her brown eyes began boring into me. I felt my will to live slipping from my grasp. Time to break eye contact. I buried my head into my pillow.  
  
============  
  
If I ever have to set foot in another mall again, I'll do myself a favor and shoot myself.  
  
My feet hurt. My shoulders ached. I limped over to a bench, setting down the dozen paper bags and propped my boots on the rim of a potted plant. How can women do this for hours? In high-heels, no less. It should be physically impossible. But there she was, running into yet another store.  
  
Two seconds later Rinoa skipped up to where I was resting. I steeled myself, knowing what was coming.  
  
"Sweetie, you have got to see this one purse! It is so adorable! Please? I need to buy it! It would be just perfect with the outfit I got over at Angelfeathers. Please?" I closed my eyes, knowing it was useless. The one monster I can't defeat is the one that has moved in with me. If only I'dve gotten stuck with a ruby dragon or T-Rexaur. Something easy.  
  
"How much is THIS one?" I asked wearily as my tired fingers fumbled over my wallet. I was too exhausted to feel shock at the amount she named. Just handed over the credit card. Rinoa beamed at the feel of the plastic. "Oh, Squally, you're so good to me!" She pecked me on the cheek before racing back to the store.  
  
Fuck, yeah, I'm good to you. TOO damn good. I was convinced that the stupid cunt was using sorcery to manipulate me.  
  
============  
  
She began leaving hints around my apartment. The least subtle of these were the stacks of wedding magazines left on the coffee table, with assorted credit card bills mixed in. She left them open to display photo montages of themed ceremonies with titles like "Bouquets in Balamb," "Deling Delight," and tons of other horrid alliterations. Cutouts of her favorite wedding dresses were pasted on the bathroom mirror. Picturing Rinoa walking down an aisle in one of them triggered my gag reflex and my claustrophobia, causing several razor mishaps while shaving every day. Not a healthy way to wake up in the morning: nauseous, bloody, and manic.  
  
Eventually The Bitch grew tired of finding her sly 'hints' in the wastebasket. She finally confronted me while I sprayed shaving cream over the glossy papers stuck over the sink.  
  
"We've been together so long. It's time we took our relationship farther." I took stock of the situation. Rinoa stood purposely blocking the only exit from the room. Well, there's always the option of diving through the window. I realized that I was at a clear disadvantage, clad only in boxer shorts. But enough is enough!  
  
"I agree, Rinoa." She blinked, stunned. I smiled, smug. "We've been together so long. Too long, in fact. And we SHOULD go farther. How 'bout starting with me staying here and you going to hell."  
  
That knocked her off-balance. It was one of my better insults. Rinoa stood, blinking in disbelief, trying to decide on a course of action. I crossed my arms over my chest, standing tall in my defiance. What trick is she going to try pulling? Tears, whining, simpering, seduction? As usual, I put all my money on her crying. It was her favorite tactic and most successful.  
  
The Bitch took me by surprise, pulling a new card from her blue knit sleeve. Rage. "You think you're too good for me, Leonhart?" She was snarling and her eyebrows started twitching. "You think I'm just some cheap slut?" Um, yeah. She IS quite the predacious whore between the sheets. I stayed silent, curiously awaiting her next demands and hoping I was strong enough to weather her tirade.  
  
"Without me you're NOTHING!" Wow, she's really going through all the break-up clichés. Fat chance she'll use the old 'It's not you, it's me' line. I attempted to stifle a snicker. She caught it, and moved closer, threatening.   
  
"What, you think this is FUNNY?!" She seemed to loom over me with her anger, and a few flecks of spittle flew from her mouth. I couldn't hold back a grin. That enraged her even more. When she started saying, "What is so komical? What about these cirkumstances is so amusing?" I began cracking up.  
  
"WHAT?!!!!" She could scream like a bloody banshee. Through my giggles I was able to say, "You're talking like Ultimecia." I was bordering on the edge of hysteria, hearing my girlfriend talking like that particular Sorceress. Ultimecia was one hard-core, scary witch.  
  
I was saved by Irvine, Zell, and Quistis armed to the teeth. They rushed into my bathroom in an ambush, skidding to a halt. Rather, trying to skid. My miniscule lavatory was getting crowded.  
  
"What the hell's goin' on?" Irvine asked, shouldering his rifle. Quistis fiddled with her whip, not wanting to unarm herself.  
  
I got my giggles to stop. "I'm breaking up with Rinoa." The rescue squad looked back and forth between Rinoa and me. No one said anything for a moment. Finally, Irvine observed, "I should've known breaking up with Rinoa would require backup." I smiled and glanced toward The Bitch. She was assuming her tearful victim act. I rolled my eyes.  
  
"Squall doesn't want to marry me anymore." Two drops ran down her face. Her eyes shimmered and her lower lip quaked.  
  
"Finally!"  
  
"Thank Hyne!"  
  
"Took him long enough!"  
  
Rinoa gazed at each of my would-be rescuers in disbelief. "Wha... I don't understand..." she trailed off, artfully releasing another two drops from her eyes.  
  
"Cut the bullshit, Rinoa," Irvine practically spat the words, "We know it's all an act."  
  
The small brunette glared at the cowboy, former pitiful expression gone from her face. "You would know all about bullshit, wouldn't you, Irvine? I know what you are. You're a fucking queer, Irvine!" Her words were a taunting mix of demand and sing-song. "You're just an in-the-closet fag! You telling ME to 'cut the bullshit?!' That's rich!" She rolled her eyes dramatically, and spouted off a few more insults to Irvine.  
  
I leaned back against the sink, trying to tune out the words she was spewing. Until she said, "And you've got a thing for Squall-ly!" I was struck with inspiration: since her hatred for homosexuality was quite apparent (and just 'cuz Irvine was looking so gosh-darn cute), I sidled over and kissed him full on the lips, blatantly giving him tongue to increase the shock value. I leaned back and looked around the room. All were struck dumb and motionless. I studied Rinoa's expression. Pure, horrified shock.  
  
I waited a few heartbeats before smugly singing, "Maybe I've got a thing for Irv-vy."  
  
Hyne, such a sweet swelling of satisfaction rose in my chest as The Bitch, my former girlfriend, sputtered and stalked out of the room. Freedom! Sweet, sweet Freedom!  
  
============  
  
Eventually Zell, Quistis, and Irvine left, filing out silently and numbly. I gloated to myself in the mirror, which would now be blissfully free of horrible wedding gown cutouts. I left the bathroom and went into the bedroom to pull on some clothes. I never even thought about what I would say to Irvine, just got dressed and danced around the room with Angelo. "No more Bitch! No more Bitch!" Angelo and I were half crazy with joy.  
  
============  
  
You want to know the end of the story?  
  
Rinoa never returned to Balamb Garden. She moved back to Timber to join, and later lead, a women's lib group. Her other causes included the Timber Owls, Save the Chocobos, and an anti-homosexuality demonstrative group.  
  
Irvine admitted his sexuality and declared his love and admiration for Squall. For four days afterward he stayed in his room polishing his guns and eating ramen noodles, until Squall confronted him.  
  
Squall spent some time exploring his feelings about Irvine. His silent conversations with himself concluded that, in fact, he WAS gay and also liked Irvine. He confessed this to Irvine, who had locked himself in his room, and spent the next two days ALSO locked in Irvine's room. Willingly.  
  
And they all lived happily ever after. 


End file.
